


She Still Holds Her When She Cries

by MattedZamo



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Heavy Angst, I swear this was supposed to be a hurt/comfort fic, and a little bit of physical comfort so like????, but i've been told 'fuck you' so like, but there's just a lot of hurt, i emotionally checked out while writing this, it's really angst heavy, oh yeah Willam is in this but only as a mention, the tag still works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 07:45:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16551803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MattedZamo/pseuds/MattedZamo
Summary: “Katya.” Trixie sighed, sniffling. Her nose was bright pink, her cheeks a softer shade. Her scarf was white, wrapped loosely around her neck twice. Her jacket was fitting like her pink sweater underneath it, and Katya just knew she didn’t have anything except her bra underneath that. She didn’t need to look down to see Trixies black leggings that matched her jacket, and her snow boots that matched her sweater. But she looked down anyway, and was proven right. “Hi.”“Hi. Is everything all right?”Trixie rocked on her heels, not looking at Katyas face, but looking behind her “can I come in? It’s a little cold out here.” She laughed, her voice cracking.





	She Still Holds Her When She Cries

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning: I'm sorry in the same way that I am absolutely not

Katya exhaled as she closed the door behind her, turning to lock her apartment door. She loved her apartment, she really did, the feeling of freedom always warm when it envelops her, but it was  _ paying  _ for it that was draining her. Holding down two jobs for it sounded like an okay idea at the time all those months ago, but now the feeling of loneliness was what waited for her when she slipped into bed, her social life thrown out the window.

A sigh of relief slipped past her lips when she leaned against the wall of the hallway, toeing her sneakers off and tugging her hair out of its elastic. It didn’t fit on her wrist anymore, the tie now stretched out from hours of holding her thick hair back during the day. It was black, and constantly slipped down her arm, staying snug on her forearm near her elbow whenever possible. One sock had come off, and it dangled out her sneaker, but she left it there, deciding to drop her jacket on the floor and resting her bag against the wall. Her apartment was completely dark, there was no one else but her now, and she barely moved things around. She knew her way. She was careful to avoid the leg of the dining room chair, and the gleam that bounced off the white refrigerator just two inches shorter than her reminding her she had a whole sandwich and a half, plus a bottle of juice, still in her book bag, waiting to get chilled. She leaned up against the fridge to yank her sock off, lightly flinging it on the old table, hearing it as it landed with a soft  _ fwop. _

After putting the food and juice in the middle shelf of her fridge, where she puts all leftovers, and where room was becoming scarce, she went to the bathroom to pee, yawning loudly throughout. She stripped down to nothing while still seated, deciding to shower after putting her phone on charge. It wasn’t dying, she just wanted to use it while she lied in bed, and the charger was to short for her to use it while charging on her favorite side. She got up to do so, a few drops of pee sliding down her thigh and she was sure a drop of pee hit the floor as well. 

She showered in the dark, yawning every so often. She let out a sigh of frustration when the temperature dropped suddenly, and stayed that way, a sign that the hot water was being used by God knows who. But she got used to it rather quickly, and ditched using her wash cloth to just massage the soap into her skin. 

She started massaging her left shoulder, working down her arm, stepping back from the spray so the water didn’t immediately wash away the suds on her hands. She lathered up the remaining coconut scented gel in her hands, before massaging the suds on her right arm. She worked on her shoulder a little, it was sore, she had carried her bag on her shoulder for the last three blocks between the bus stop and her home, and it was a little heavy. She put more gel in her hands, woking it into a lather before massaging her chest plate, her ribs, moving back up to knead her breasts. They had gotten a little sore, had swelled up throughout the day and her bra wasn’t loose enough to accommodate the added weight. It was nice, the gentle kneading and light tugging of her nipples, and she tilted her head back so it could rest against the cream colored tiles. She finished minutes later, and exhaustion was tightening her grip so she opted to rub some more soap on her stomach, hips,ass, thighs, calves and feet, leaning up against the cold wall to rub her heels. 

When she toweled herself off, she didn’t bother to dry the ends of her hair that had gotten wet.

Stepping out the bathroom, the switch from cold tiles to cold hardwood didn't bother her, not as much as the insistent vibration that can only be coming from her phone. It was quiet, the man who usually blasts music throughout the complex had gone to bed or something like that, and traffic had died down enough that only a complete asshole would honk their horn to get someone to go. She didn't rush though, instead turning to her right to get a bottle of water from the back of fridge, then she'd turn to the left to head to the bedrooms in the back. One had been turned into her closet/ library, holding her dresser full of regular clothes and her dresses and clothes that went on hangers, along with her two stuffed bookcases filled with 13 years of books. She promised herself she'd buy another, to start alleviating the fullness from the second bookcase, but that would require an entire afternoon, and she didn't like the idea of spending her one free afternoon on a  _ bookcase _ . 

She had to call her mom, or at least text her. It had been more than half an hour since she got home, she had to guess since she hadn't checked the time, but her water was  _ really  _ good. Her mom had waited thirty minutes, Katya was sure she could wait about five more. She'd call in the morning, as she did every morning on her way to work while riding the bus, talk menial things; her mom lived in a different state now, and they talked the weather, their neighbors, weird things they noticed on their daily routes. Some days the prospect of her morning conversation exhausted her, and she didn't call her mom, but her mom would call her and her concern would energize her, the reminder that someone still cared. 

She had thrown the bottle in her little garbage can, and it landed with a hard thud, there was nothing in the plastic tub, turning to head to bed. But she thought better of it, turned around and pulled the bottle out and setting it on the floor next to it. She had to get a recycling bag started soon, but she couldn't be bothered. Her feet making soft thuds against the wood and the sound of her thighs rubbing together slightly were what accompanied her to her bed, her room not as dark. Her pull down blind was up by a foot, and the city lights flowed in, allowing her to miss tripping on the other pair of sneakers she had thrown in haphazardly the morning before, trying to regain some sense of order in her home in a huff.

Her phone was lit up, still not fully charged but on with loads of notifications. There was a faint draft in the room, her nipples puckering uncomfortably against the chill, and she picked up the oversized shirt she wore to bed to put on with some boxers. She was debating on putting socks on, and decided that  _ yes  _ she would wear a pair to bed, she just wasn’t sure if it would be her last pair of knee highs or one of her endless ankle socks that always slip off because she kicks and thrusts. 

Her doorbell rang, interrupting her internal debate. Goosebumps ran up her spine, she knew no one bothered to visit her, much less so at half past eleven. Her doorbell rang again, and she looked at her phone, shivering. Her robe was still dirty to slip on over her frame, her sweaters have gone without wash for to long to feel comfortable against her recently sensitive skin. Her phone lit up again, and in her shock she couldn’t look at it to see who it was, even with the knocks being hit against her door. She finally took a step forward, taking another, and then a third to reach the night table, picking up her phone. She picked it up to harshly, yanking the charger from her phone, the screen lighting up and dying down shortly after. It gave her enough time to see who had started up their knocking on her door. 

Trixie. 

Her breath caught in her throat, but steadied as she went on autopilot, throwing her hair up in a loose bun close to the back of her neck, and picking up the discarded loose cotton black summer shorts that she uses as sleep shorts during the cooler months. 

It felt surreal, every soft step matching each knock at the door, but she went anyway, trying to keep her breathing even. It stayed even until her fingers grazed the top lock, the bronze feeling freezing against the pads of her digits. 

“Katya? You there?” Her voice was strong through the door, and Katyas breath grew shaky as she slowly unlocked the top lock, turning it to the right two times to get the deadbolt open. Next was the chain, then the lock on the knob. A sharp twist to the left and she slowly pulled the door open, the harsh lighting from the hallway flooding the section of her hallway, illuminating the way the wood still lacked any wax. 

“Katya.” Trixie sighed, sniffling. Her nose was bright pink, her cheeks a softer shade. Her scarf was white, wrapped loosely around her neck twice. Her jacket was fitting like her pink sweater underneath it, and Katya just knew she didn’t have anything except her bra underneath that. She didn’t need to look down to see Trixies black leggings that matched her jacket, and her snow boots that matched her sweater. But she looked down anyway, and was proven right. “Hi.” 

“Hi. Is everything all right?”    
Trixie rocked on her heels, not looking at Katyas face, but looking behind her “can I come in? It’s a little cold out here.” She laughed, her voice cracking.

Katya scratched her head awkwardly and a little to hard for how loose her ponytail was. The hair tie came undone, her hair falling to her shoulders and springing upwards. She didn’t hear the elastic dropping to the ground, but she felt it when it bounced off the top of her ass “yeah,” she moved back to let Trixie in.

“Thanks.” Trixie mumbled under her breath, her steps thunderous in the tense and quiet bubble of Katyas apartment.

“You’re welcome.” She answered quietly to Trixies back. 

She watched as Trixie moved slowly and swiftly around the kitchen, turning on the light to which Katya blinked hard against, and waited until her eyes could adjust. The dining room table had four chairs, the one on the south end of the table was pressed against the china cabinet, and there was one that was in between the wall and the table, the table just needed a little pull forward. Katya was slow to move around the north end of the table to get the chair in front of the window, sliding into the chair and tuning into what Trixie was saying; her back was still to Katya and as she fluttered around the triangular layout kitchen.

“It’s amazing, you haven’t really changed anything! Do you stay here often?” Trixie asked, her voice raised as a slight compensation for her mood. It was a thing she used to do, and Katya found she still did. She turned to Katya watching her, her face open and Trixie snorted when she looked “I guess not. Well that just makes things easier for me than I guess. Is this?” Trixie questioned, pointing to the humming kettle. Katya shook her head that  _ yes, _ it was. Trixie nodded and dropped it.

She hadn’t shed her jacket, scarf or boots, and leaning back against the sink made her look taller than what she was. The electric kettle was rumbling, turned on to heat the water for tea. Trixies old mug was brought down from the overhead cabinet and Katyas new black one that was on the drying rack was next to hers on the counter in front of the kettle. Both mugs had what Katya could guess were two tablespoons of sugar along with the chamomile tea bags, their strings tugged off and thrown away. She didn’t  _ want  _ tea, but Trixie was in far to much of a mood to easily get into a dispute that Katya had no energy to carry. 

“Yeah. I guess.” Katya said. Her head was on her fists, her elbows hard on the table. It hurt to talk like that, but she didn’t want to set Trixie off any further by talking to her with her head down like she desperately wanted to. 

“Yeah. So what have you been up to?”

“Working. You?”

Trixie shrugged, shooting her eyes upwards and blinking hard. She swallowed, and Katya watched as her throat bobbed. She remembered countless nights when her mouth was pressed up against that throat, and she herself blinked back tears. “Oh, you know,” Trixie finally started, her voice thick with faux cheriness “being a functioning member of society and all.”

Katya hummed as she nodded, moving her focus point from Trixies pulled up hair to the steam rising from the kettle. She yawned, a loud one overtaking her and making her tear up a bit. The kettle  _ ding _ ed, signalling it finished, and Trixie turned to pour the water into the mugs, getting two teaspoons and dunking them into each mug. She stirred hers before picking them up and setting them down, one across the other. Katya sat up, her back reminding her of its ache as she did so and she ignored it, wrapping her hands around the mug. It’d be a short while before the heat made it uncomfortable to keep her hands around the ceramic, but she’d deal with that when that happened. 

Trixie sat down gingerly, pulling the tail end of her jacket from under her butt before realizing she matter as well get comfortable. So she did, getting back up and toes off her boots, setting them by the door, hanging up her jacket and scarf on the hooks nailed into the wall. To Katya, it made no difference where the boots ended up, the dirt had already made trail marks all on kitchen floor, a material Katya never bothered to place. She was sure she had stepped in dirt after trailing behind Trixie, but she didn’t bother to check the bottom of her feet.

She’ll  _ force  _ herself to shower after Trixie left again. 

“So. What brings you here?” Katya asked as soon as Trixie sat down. She tried to hide the irritation creeping up, but in all fairness, she had had a 14 hour day, and her lights were on when she wanted nothing more than to stay in relative darkness.

“What?” Trixie chuckled “I can’t stop by to say hi?” She blew on her tea after asking the question, and Katya moved to sit cross legged on the chair, her hands clasped in her thighs.

“It’s been four months, Trixie.” She said quietly, more to the table than to the woman seated across from her.

“Kat,” Trixie exhaled, and Katya heard as she put her mug down.

“Four. Months.” She rose her head to look at Trixie, noticing for the first time that night, that she was actually makeup less “I don’t hear a damn word from you in four months and now you want to stop by to say  _ hi _ ?” She spit out, never breaking eye contact. 

Trixie sighed and started chewing her bottom lip. She got up, twisted and turned the kitchen light off. “Come on.” She said, and it took a moment for Katya to find her in the darkness, her eyes still unadjusted. 

“You expect me to just  _ follow _ you?”

“Katya please?” She pleaded quietly, and Katya grumbled and grunted as she got up, rolling her eyes up to the high heavens. 

They made their way to the couch, the upholstery still firm from being avoided since it’s recent purchase. Katya sat on the end closest to the wall and window while Trixie sat at the other end, closer to the kitchen. 

“I can explain-” Trixie started, cut off when Katya had scuffed.

“Please,  _ amuse _ me.”

“Okay.” She heard when Trixie took a deep breath, “I had to go because-”

“Trixie,  _ stop. _ ” Katyas tears were too much for her to hold back, and a few fell. Her chest grew tight at the memories she’s been trying hard to push down “it is  _ not  _ as if you just up and left this house Trixie-”

“I know.”

“And it is  _ not _ like you just dumped me with no explanation and I found out why a few weeks later through a mutual friend-”

“I know.”

“You left me  _ at the altar _ Trixie. You left me. Standing there, with all of our friends and family  _ watching. _ ” Katya angrily gasped out, had found herself standing over Trixie, her hands balled into fists. “And then! No one could find you! I tried  _ everything _ Trixie!  _ Everything! _ ” 

“I’m sorry-”

“Oh! Now you’re  _ sorry _ !” Katya laughed, hissing when she hit a snag as she ran her hands through her hair. “Are you sorry about all the  _ sorries _ I had to tell people? And the ones my mom had to say too? Or or are you sorry for the man hours put to find you? Or maybe you’re sorry about the weeks,  _ weeks _ , I spent thinking over every little fucking thing trying to see what  _ I _ had done that drove you away.” 

Her blood was boiling, pumping so loudly through her veins, she could hear it. Her hands had broken out into a cold sweat as did her feet, and she felt breathless and ready to run. It was hard to breathe and she crumpled to the floor, her knees hitting the hard ground first, the shock of pain the only thing that told her she had fallen, that she may have won many battles with her feelings, but she had just lost the war. Trixie had, and always had been, the one trick up the other teams sleeve; standing, waiting in her blind spot. “Tell me what I did wrong, Trixie  _ please _ .” She gasped out, feeling as if her lungs were collapsing as she wept and gasped “Just. Put me out my misery.”

“I made a mistake.” Trixie said next to her. She didn’t know when Trixie had made it that close that she could hear her clearly even though she was talking softly, but her voice was still soothing  _ somehow _ . “I thought I-” she paused, and Katya could hear her crack her knuckles. Some of them had either already been cracked or weren’t ready to, but it was Katyas only indicator that Trixie was still nervous.

“What? What did you think?” Katya said, her voice hoarse now.

“I thought I wasn’t ready.”

“Bullshit.” 

Outside, the wind blew by fiercely, the trees rustling with it. Cars were honking, people must’ve been trying to get into the freeway about a mile down the road. A few dogs barked in a high octave, toy dogs from the second building. The old man was gay, Katya was  _ sure, _ but she could be wrong. It wasn’t as if being wrong was an unfamiliar sensation. She had stopped sniffling, and she guessed Trixie had to. Trixies mouth was dry, she kept opening and closing her mouth and swallowing. But she was always the more patient one out of both of them, she could hold out. 

“I thought I loved someone else.” She finally whispered and Katyas heart broke once more. 

“Who-who was she?”

“His name is Willam.”

“Him. Are you-”

“Yeah.” 

Katya curled into herself, rocking slowly. She didn’t know him, never heard of him. But memories, so many memories, were rushing in and clouding her thoughts. She thought they were happy, she  _ knew _ that she and Trixie were happy. Trixie had been the one longing for the wedding, they worked to go all out; for the endless bouquets, for the perfect caterer, for the perfect venue, for the perfect day and time, for the perfect this, for the perfect that. It was the wedding of Trixies dreams, and nothing filled Katya with more warmth and happiness than knowing that that day, their wedding day, would be one of the many days Trixie would  _ never  _ stop gushing about.

She remembers waking up early on days they both had to go to work early and both were coming home late to kiss Trixie awake, kiss her across her freckles, kiss her soft eyelids, tickling her soft sides to get her awake, no matter how loud she protested. She would wrap herself against Trixie, her front on her nude back, listening to her lose the sleep in her voice steadily as she talked more about the wedding. On days they had off, they’d go out to eat, tickle and giggle walking by shops, they’re hands always finding each others if the other had to let go. 

Arms wrapped around her and she latched onto Trixie, unable to help herself, her weeps deepening against the soft sweater that smelled so  _ disasteredly  _ like Trixie. “Why Trixie, why?” she wailed against her, holding her close and pushing her away. She was to hot and yet not warm enough, she didn’t want to be touched yet relished in the feeling of being held. She wailed for answers and yet, didn’t want to know them, waling even louder to drown out Trixies chance of explanation. 

-

_ “You know, you’re stuck with me forever now. Just two more weeks now.”  _

_ Their bed was cozy and warm, a contrast to the shit storm happening just a few feet away, right outside their window. If Katya bothered to turn, or even crane her neck upwards, she could see whoever had bothered to go out rush outside, trying their best to go against the winds. Trixie had wrestled her under her, pinning her down with her weight. Her giggle was light and airy, her eyes brighter than any sun, or any dying star, and Katya missed her little brown orbs of sunshine the moment Trixie closed her eyes to kiss her. _

_ “I wouldn’t have it any other way baby.” She said against her lips. _

-

It had begun raining outside. 

Katyas legs were wrapped around Trixies back, her arms tucked in between their bodies. Her head was resting on top of her breast, and she had synced up her breaths to match Trixies. It felt strange, finding comfort in the woman she was now forced to consider her ex, but she accepted for the time being. She wasn’t sure if Trixie was comfortable, sat in the middle of the living room floor with an entire human on her lap, and it didn’t bring her comfort the uncertainty of if she was allowed to care about that.

She hiccuped, and Trixie petted her hair, humming a low tune. It wasn’t an actual song, something of Trixies own creation, a mashup of tunes she liked and half remembered. It had no words, but held enough emotion to convey a soothing feeling that automatically calmed Katya. She wasn’t sure if she had been accidently Pavlov’d, but her heart didn’t feel like it was climbing out her mouth, and that feeling brought down immense comfort. 

“Are you happy?”

It was still quiet, as if the city outside had gone back to peaceful order so there was no need for either woman to strain their voices, especially Katya.   
“No.”

“Then why are you still with him?”

Should she care or should she not care? She loved the woman for five years before Trixie split, and she still had love for her, even if the love now held hands with soul crushing pain.   
“I’m not ready to be alone.”

“I guess I understand. Being alone is terrifying.”

It was, and even though the feeling had lessened, it was still persistent. It still hurt to see couples so  _ happy _ , it still hurt when she would remember the soft things Trixie had done for her and her Trixie, it still hurt when she had a good day and no one to hug and kiss and hold to celebrate that, it still hurt that her obvious lack of best friends was a constant reminder that she had dedicated so much time to the woman who left. 

Trixie inhaled deeply, her lungs stuttering as she did so, and her arms went from being wrapped around Katyas back to her hands lightly holding her biceps. Katya pulled back, gasping softly when her eyes automatically caught Trixies; they were filled with so much sorrow, with so many unspoken words and apologies both knew were useless. “I think I should head home.” Trixie whispered so quietly, even her heartbeat sounded to loud.

“Are you safe?” Katya blurted out, her eyes darting across her face to read her expersession. Trixie nodded solemnly, her face saying she was telling the truth and Katya let out her breath, nodding minutely. She got up, groaning at how achy her muscles were from tensing and then staying in one position for however long it took to be a little more at peace. 

In the kitchen, she watched with a mild headache from the light as Trixie got herself ready, their abandon mugs of tea poured down the drain and filled with water, Katya’ll wash them when she got the chance. The tea bags gave a heavy thud when they landed in the garbage pail, and both of them gave watery giggles at the sound. 

At the door, Trixie pulled Katya into a hug, Katya tearing up once more when Trixie kissed her hair. She had the door in her hand, Trixie in the building hallway, both of them squinting at how  _ harsh _ the fucking light was. 

“Hey Trixie?”

Trixie stopped playing with the fringe at the end of her scarf to look up at Katya from under her lash extensions “yeah?”

“Don’t ever stop by to say hi ever again.”

Trixie looked stunned, but quickly understood, nodding her head and giving a short wave goodbye. Katya closed the door behind her, dead bolting and chaining the door before shuffling to bed, dreading that she would only get four hours of sleep, her day starting at 8. 

Under the covers, ankle socks on her feet, damn it all if they were dirty or not, Katya blocked Trixies number, the last way Trixie was able to contact her, and fell into a fretful sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not on Tumblr anymore but if you feel you must send me messages there than it's @mattedzamo :)


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